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JoanWaterfield
She passed away in 2003.
Her work is being transcribed as it becomes available.
Thank you IMDB for providing a platform.
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The Hot Rock (1972)
Doesn't quite click..
The farcical "big heist" blighted by ineptitude and circumstance has provided many a classic movie moment.
Melina Mercouri and Peter Ustinov had a far go in 'Topkapi'. Peter O'Toole and Audry Hepburn did some pretty pinching in 'How to Steal a Million', and Alec Guiness did a difinitive job in the Lavender Hill Mob.
However, 'The Hot Rock' bypasses a prime requirement of this type of film: that the audience be supplied with just the right balance of laughter and tension and compromises the caper with unessesary violence in the firey distraction at the museum, the blackmail beating at the warehouse.
Robert Redford and George Segal are not quite at ease in the gambol; Ron Liebman and Paul Sand are better served; Zero Mostel is, as usual, too much larger than life.
Still in a thin season for pratfalls, the antics of The Hot Rock offer welcome relief, and while it is unbelievable that Redford sprung up from a stretch "up the river" should walk the streets of New York with nary a glance at a pretty girl, the helicopter sequence rollicking tower-top over the big city skyline is well worth the price of admission.
Frogs (1972)
Reptile Revenge..
With some justification Nature is getting back at Man and the horror movie makers were having a heyday.
In most cases it might be suggested that the first victims of flora and fauna on the rampage should be quickie movie-makers of the genre whose gruesome excesses are an insult to the senses.
Not so, however, in the case of Frogs, a very tasty shocker that is far superior to the usual suspense-filler.
Most of the credit must go to director George McCowan, tautly effective in mounting horror as an ever-diminishing group is attacked by reptilian hordes yet neatly controlled in holding the seat-edge suspense.
There's only one star name Ray Milland in a brief appearance, but the cast is uniformly good.
Real stars, of course, are the assorted lizards, snakes, frogs, toads, and for good measure quicksand, and the photography by Mario Tosi (at Eden state park in Florida) is magnificent. Yet another plus is the mood-enhancing score of Les Baxter.
The Poseidon Adventure (1972)
Sinker
Arthur Haley should have written this one and called it 'Ship'.
The stock characters, artfully designated in the opening frames are no longer drawn from the ethnic range, but there's just as much bilge, just as little ballast in the Poseiden selection. Thus Gene Hackman, activist preacher, all thumbs and mouth; Ernst Borgnine, red neck detective(she was the only thing I ever loved); Steila Stevens, gritty hooker (get outta her you s.o.b.); Carol Lynely, whining rock singer (I can't I can't), Red Buttons, haberdasher with heart (you can you can); and Shelly Winters heavy Jewish grandmother (That's what life is all about). For preg kid of the year, Eric Shea who masterminds the escape, but with respect, sir, the most exciting sea drama ever filmed - ain't.
Blow Out (1981)
Good start ..bad finish.
Years ago a Cambridge University scientist published a paper that reached a remarkable conclusion: the rate growth of the male's beard it seems is related to his sexual activity. "It seems," he said in proper scientific jargon. "that the beard growth in man is a much neglected parameter of hormonal activity that can be readily quantified."
I quote this piece of scientific trivia in that it may be relevant to John Travoltas scampering through Brian De Palma's Blow Out with a 5 o'clock shadow. An attempt, perhaps, to to reinforce Travolta's sexy charisma as support to the film. or if it is intended to show stress of character in the films hero, Jack Terri (Travolta), it fails as a contrivance in a film filled with contrivances.
Now I happen to like Travolta, feel he has a real sensitivity as an actor,. But it is De Palma who has become the critic's pet: his homage to Hitchcock and now to Antoinini (Blow Up) has prompted effulgent tributes to his 'style'.
But while imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, copy-catting as De Palma does with his myriad of film references doe not serve De Palma well.
For the beginning there was a super idea, a murder caught by ear-dropping sound man Terri. And a dandy opening to this film as the camera tracks a heavy breathing murderer through a sorority house. Most of the sisters are in an advanced state of undress and the ultimate victim is starkers in the shower. A squeak of terror and the camera pulls back to reveal a movie within a movie, a sleaze film that is a wonderful send up of shock shlock.
And so we first meet Jack Terri whose sound work in porno films such perks as a very classy apartment.
A dedicated technician, Terri is next seen in a park, searching for new effects. Sound of a car approaching, the report of a blow out and the car plunges into a creek. As does Jack, but not before he's noted that audio needle jump. That tire was shot out, the victim is the state governor and the presence of a young blonde rescued by Jack is something to be hushed up.
A whiff of Chappaquddick right? And so far so good. But then De Palma seeks further reference to the book of political dirty tricks with the appearance of a Gordon Liddy clone. This nasty type has gone beyond a situation of political embarrassment to murder and now embarks on the slaughter of unhappy hookers to mask the ultimate killing of the girl in the case.
Having got the Who's and the What's, the audience is left with an unresolved Why.
De Palma finks on his good idea, overloads the film with the artiness of Vilmos Sigismond's photography, fails to create empathy with Travolta or sympathy for the not-to-bright blonde (Nancy Allen). Fails too in providing a clean line of mounting suspense. And a final appendage which shows Jack using the dying scream of the girl in the original porno film which could be interpreted as a final note of cynicism, becomes merely an example of the De Palma cutes.
Freaky Friday (1976)
..it tries.
Long years ago, Walt Disney Studios took a tremendous talent in Haley Mills and a sugar sweet story and came up with sheer enchantment in Pollyanna. I wish I could say the same about Freaky Friday.
The talent is there , just as tremendous in Jody Foster, but it is difficult to know which audience this film is directed.
The idea is a cute one; a tomboy teenager and her mother switch personalities. That's all right if the show had got its focus on the kiddie audience and played it for laughs.
But there are some grimmer undertones that are an uneasy accompaniment and a family situation that can't be resolved by instant Tinker Bell from the Disney Studios.
While man into dog has made for a healthy programmer from Disney, Freaky Friday is not a vehicle to be rescued by slapstick, or the very considerable charm of Foster and Barbara Harris.
Bugsy Malone (1976)
Marshmallow and pie
In order to enjoy Bugsy malone you can do one of several things.
You can recall the 'dress-up' days of childhood when Mom's high heels and hats were in constsnt use and smoking was limited to candy cigarettes rolled round the tongue to pencil point.
If you're a movie buff, you'll get a kick out of the film identifying the Cagney gesture, the Robinson sneer, the Raft cool.
Or you can play the pundit; by our children we'll be taught and if war must be made, load the guns with marshmallows and make the heavy ammuntion cream pies. Whatever.
Certainly Bugsy Malone offers a cute idea: yoiugsters in a spoof of gangster movies and musicals of the 1930s.
It's all there; the gang power struggles between Dandy Dan and Fat Sam; the chorus line in the sleazy nightclub, the rub out and the hijack; the Ruby Keeler chlorine looking for a break that will take her to Hollywood.
Good fun, almost.
Bugsy just never gets beyond the curio to become the film it might have been. Thaere are just too many story threads that don't mesh; the clean up kid in the club that should turn into Bojangles, the youngster with the great right, and so on.
The kids are good and Jodie Foster is great. So good is she as Tallulah, Fat Sam's moll, that she makes the rest look amateur. That of course affects the balance of the project. As do some strange little twists - the lip synching of the Paul Williams songs seems off; when Bugsy is beaten up it looks like adults got into the act and it's ugly.
So what could have been a winning and unusual film experience turn out to be slight enterrtainment at best. The parody gets pipped at the post - becomes a paste-up of 'Our Gang' shorts.
Last of the Red Hot Lovers (1972)
Middle Age
Receding youth, looming age and caught in the squeeze is Barney Cashman, Last of the Red Hot Lovers, a man most husbands will recognize.
You know the guy... married more thane 20 years but with a roving eye for a pretty pair of legs...the reluctanyt and somewhat innocuous lecher.
On Broadway, James Coco became a star as Barney, but true to Hollywood form he wasn't stabbed for the movie role --that went to Alan Arkin. Coco was more than comphensated by being signed to play Sancho Panza to Peter O'Tooles "Man of La Mancha".
Alan Arkin scores as the movie Barney, bumbling his way through sexual games with three willing women. His special comedic talents are perfectly mated to ythe part; the 40ish Lothario dreaming of "just one more time" out of wedlock.
Sally Kellerman, Paula Prentice and Rene Taylor give adiquate support in the "Quarry Quandary" though they night have been more believable had they been less attractive, but the other players give solid performances.
Barney may be a failure, but the movie succeeds happily.
The Eagle Has Landed (1976)
Ruptured Duck
The trouble with 'The Eagle Has Landed' comes if you have read the book.
Jack Higgins came up with a cracker-jack thriller which, even knowing that the mad directive from Hitler to kidnap Churchill would not succeed, offered suspense and interest to the last page.
Thus primed, it could be anticipated that a particularly well-cast film would offer at least high-class melodrama. Well, all the ingredients are here, but Eagle comes across more like a ruptured duck than the high flying thriller it could have been.
Certainly the book took time to learn the characters and this gradual build-up of interest allowed the reader a nagging involvment as to who would survive and a sympathy with those on both sides of the plot.
The film adaptation has turned character into cliche and we are all left wondering why these excellent actors are in this film and what are we doing paying good money to watch them.
Donald Sutherland is totally charmless as the Irishman whose co-operation with Germany is supposed to be a blow in the cause of a free Ireland. And neither his bog-Irish accent nor his convoluted thinking can, in this script, justify the ready seduction of Jenny Agutter. Michael Caine as the highly honorable German officer offers a clipped parody of all those gallant British types who fought and flew in films of the 1940's.
There's Donald Pleasance as a photo-copy of Himmler and Anthony Quale popping in as Admiral Canaris. And Larry Hagman almost laughable as a paranoic American commander. Only that excellent actor Robert Duvall manages to holsd sympathy and interest.
But what ever happened to the Lord Haw-Haw type who was so much part of the book, the parish priest, his charming sister? all lost..which should be the fate of this movie.
What's Up, Doc? (1972)
A fun blend...
Every old country cook knows that a good soup improves with age.
So it is the Peter Bogdonavich has kept a stock pot of screwball comedies of the 30's simmering on the back burner from his memory to serve it up in the brilliantly derivative "What's Up Doc?"
It's more than broth, it must be admitted, but the chef's hand is sure as he tosses in every ingredient that made such joyful smashes as "Theodora Goes Wild", "Nothing Is Sacred" and "Bringing Up Baby".
Take one square boy (Ryan O'Neal) and one 'noodnick' girl (Barbara Streisand), stir in the uptight fiance, the suspicious clerk partner, the hilarious judge, add a soupcon of prat-falls, pie-in-the-face and the walking sheet of glass and garnish with a mal and merry chase that should write 'finis' to what has become a standard movie gimmick since its Keystone Kops birthing to its 'French Connection" maturation.
Bogdonavich is beautifully served by his writers Buck Henry, Robert Benton and David Newman, less well by his stars. Ryan O'Neal is pleasant, but his metier is not comedy and Streisand, wonderfully talented though she is, lacks that very special charm that was part of the great appeal of Carole Lombard.
But this is nit-picking in the face of the outstanding performances and the resulting 94 minutes of fun.
Bogdonavich willingly acknowledges his debt to directors Howard Hawks, Frank Capra, Leo McCarey, and it is a tribute to him and his mentors that he is so successful without being outrageously campy.
"What's Up Doc?" offers mature audiences a movie they might never have expected to see on the contemporary screen, for a younger generation gagging on too many pretentious puddings served up in the name of social concern, this dish is just what the doctor ordered.
White Lightning (1973)
Reynolds does it as well as anyone.
Burt Reynolds, pin-up boy of the year past, is here this week in White Lightning, a fast paced melodrama that should provide good entertainment for the action fans.
Reynolds, often embarrassingly coy in his television appearances, is locked in his movie career, into the characterization of the tough rough-hewn type, a Bogart/Gable combination with a touch of Astaire. Which is fine for he probably does it better than anyone else.
In White Lightning he is very well cast in the pattern of Gator McKlusky, on the 'inside' for running bootleg whiskey and 'sprung' to help Treasury agents trap the bootleggers.
So far, so good. Then the plot deviates into Gator's pursuit of a sadistic sheriff, probable murderer of his brother. Fortunately, Reynolds is forceful enough to carry the plot tangle and enough comedy is injected to balance the inevetable ultra-violence.
The supporting roles are in the main well-handled. Jennifer Billingsley is just too much-mouthed as the floozie, and Ned Beatty is the stereotype sheriff, but the characters that pepper the story, Louise Latham, the secretary, Bo Hopkins, a fellow driver, Matt Clark, a nervously working undercover and R.G. Armstrong as the gang leader, are well-served by William Norton's dialouge and the Joeseph Sargent direction.
More hits than misses with White Lightning, with the hits the easy style of Reynolds, some super auto sequences and the all-round professionalism of the production.